


impatiens

by lizzieraindrops



Series: A midnight study in purple [5]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Platonic Touch, helsinki, reference to Helsinki #4 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 08:08:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6110404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzieraindrops/pseuds/lizzieraindrops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set offscreen between scenes of Helsinki #4. Because Veera and Niki getting into disguise before their meeting with the reporter was definitely worth some screentime. Very fluffy. A oneshot originally posted for a prompt <a href="http://lizzieraindrops.tumblr.com/post/140020349899/veera-impatiens">on tumblr</a>.</p><p>
  <i>Impatiens: impatience.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	impatiens

_“Nikiiii,”_  Veera whines through her teeth.

“I’m almost done. Could you quit fidgeting for, like,  _two_  more seconds. I don’t wanna burn your ear.”

Veera waits for two beats, motionless, then says, “That’s two seconds.”

 _“Ughh,”_  Niki says from where she’s kneeling behind her. “You know what I mean. Hold still, please.”

The wire hinge of Suvi’s borrowed curling iron gives a minute  _squeak_  as Niki clamps it down on a lock of hair just above Veera’s right ear. Niki holds the iron steady with one hand while a brief application of heat coaxes numerous strands of keratin into a temporary curl. She lays her other hand softly on Veera’s shoulder. Veera feels her muscles relax slightly under the contact. Niki isn’t so much holding her still as grounding her into stillness with the gentle touch.

“Why does my hair have to be curled? I’ll be wearing my hood anyway.”

“Hoods fall off,” Niki said. She releases the curl of Veera’s hair with another  _squeak_  into the hush of the morning quiet. The hand on her shoulder flits away to catch another lock at her temple and wrap its short length around the iron.

“So do wigs,” Veera points out, eyeing the brown mop lying nearby on the floorboards of their hideout in Suvi’s musty-smelling attic. Despite Niki’s disapproving noises at her shifting, Veera uncrosses her legs where she sits on the floor and crosses them back again the other way. Her muscles are buzzing with sitting still for too long. “Why do we need disguises, anyway? It’s our  _faces_  that are the problem. This isn’t helping.” 

“Look,” Niki says in a reasoning tone. Veera can feel the faint breeze of Niki gesturing with her free hand behind her even though she can’t see it. She smiles to herself a little. “We’re definitely being watched. If there’s any chance this will throw them off long enough for us to meet up with this reporter...” Niki sighs and lifts the iron away from another finished curl, but doesn’t start a new one.

“I just...” Niki says in a small voice. The change of tone makes Veera turn to look at her over her shoulder. “I don’t know who I trust anymore. Except you. And Jade,” she adds, glancing toward the opposite corner of the attic, where the frail girl is curled up trying to get some rest. “But I hardly know Jade.”

Veera blinks. “You hardly know  _me_.”

Niki looks back to her again and smiles right at her with bright eyes. “Sure I do. You’re my friend Veera Suominen: you saved my life when your creepy  _‘legal guardian’_  tried to  _abduct_  me-slash-you, you love pistachios and that weird death metal band you were telling me about, the first thing you wanted after making jailbreak and wandering through the Russian wilderness for God knows how long was your  _laptop_  - which I brought all the way back from Gdansk for you, you’re welcome - and you’re really brave and really smart, and you’ve probably worn that purple hoodie every day of your life since the day you got it.” Veera has absolutely no idea how to respond, can only gaze wide-eyed at Niki, and ride out the acceleration of her heartbeat at hearing the voice she loves best paint a picture of her with such pretty words. “So I know it’s probably pointless to ask if you can make an exception and not wear it today, because it  _is_  pretty recognizable, if anyone’s watching for it.”

Veera looks down at the wood floor and shudders a little, tugging the sleeves of her hoodie down snugly over her wrists. “I don’t think I can. I’m already on edge enough as it is. It fits just right, and the weight of it helps me keep calm.” Niki was right about that. (And the pistachios) (and  _Opeth_ ) (did she really think Veera was brave...?) 

“Yeah, I figured,” Niki says. “Well, that’s more important.” She reaches up to tweak one of the curls she’s put in Veera’s bangs, then tugs gently on a feathery lock of hair that hasn’t been curled yet. “What d’you say I just curl this one and we’re done?” Veera nods enthusiastically, feeling the strain of the hairs Niki’s holding at the roots. She can’t wait to stand up and stretch her legs.

Niki wraps the lock around the barrel of the iron and holds it for a quiet moment longer. Then she unwraps it and sets the iron aside. She reaches out both hands to fluff Veera’s now-curly head a little, then throws them up in the air, saying, “There you go! You’re free!”

Veera leaps to her feet with a grin, then shakes her head like a dog, feeling the curls rustle against each other in a way she’s entirely unused to. She paces the width of the attic a few times while running her fingers across her scalp and through the unusually bouncy, wavy texture of her hair. She starts to giggle a little, but catches herself before she gets too loud - she doesn’t want to wake poor Jade.

She turns back to Niki, who is trying to shake the wig into some semblance of presentability. “Here, help me pin this thing on, would you?” she says.

Veera goes back over to her and kneels down behind her. “Here, let me do it. I know how.”

“You do?” Niki says, surprised. She passes the wig to Veera and twists her own blonde hair into a neat bun at the base of her neck.

“I’ve seen a lot of cosplay tutorials online...”

“A lot of  _what?_ ”

“... Nevermind. Just give me those pins.”

She works in silence for a few minutes, meticulously pinning the wig into place. Veera doesn’t think it will actually do any good, but if it will make Niki feel better, she’ll go along with it. “There you go,” she whispers when she’s done, then sits back.

Niki grabs the hand mirror she’d stolen from Suvi as part of their impromptu attic salon setup. “Hey, nice job!” she says, turning her head this way and that. “Though I should probably put that headband on to cover the edge of it, looks kinda -  _wiggy_...”

They pause as Jade coughs a little and rolls over. Her arm falls into a dusty sunbeam streaming through the window. Her breathing evens out again as she seems to fall back into a light sleep.

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to help her, Niki,” Veera says in an undertone. “She’s really sick.”

“You’ve  _already_  helped her, Veera. By getting her out of that place,” Niki says.

Veera gets to her feet and wraps her arms around herself. “Do you think this will work?”

“What, with the reporter?” Niki stands up, too. “I don’t know. But I think you’re right, it’s our best shot.”

“Mmmm,” Veera says. She’s already regretting this, and they haven’t even started. She doesn’t like being looked at, doesn’t like drawing attention to herself. If this works, who knows how many thousands of people will be watching her. But if it can save them - all of them...

“Hey,” Niki says, resting one hand on her shoulder and giving her a friendly shake. “It’ll be okay. We just gotta stick together, you and me. We’ll make it work.”

Veera gulps and nods at the shadowy floor. Abruptly, she turns and throws her arms around Niki to wrap her in a tight hug. Niki lets out a tiny, surprised sound, then hugs her back just as tightly. They stay that way for a few minutes that Veera can only measure in her own small, anxious heartbeats.

“You ready?” Niki whispers right next to her ear.

Veera shakes her head against Niki’s shoulder. The synthetic hairs of the wig tickle her nose. Niki smells like lavender from her hand lotion and faintly sharp with sweat: she’s afraid, too.

“Me neither. Let’s go.”


End file.
